Excerpt of Stolen Justice by DJ Gross

Island Palms Hotel
Islamorada, Florida
10:45 am

Playing the lottery was looking better and better. James T. Flynn stared down into his glass, running down Hail Mary options for keeping the Island Palms out of bankruptcy.

"Seems a mite early for tequila, JT." His grandfather's voice carried from the bar's entrance.

"Mornin', Pops." JT eased off the bar stool and moved to a table close to the door.

Pops joined him and waved over to the bartender. "Bill, could I trouble you for a sweet tea?"

"You got it." Bill brought over a tall glass with a bendy straw.

"Thank you kindly." Pops took a long draw from the glass. "What's got you down, son?"

Low occupancy rates and unpaid bills. "Nothing. It's all good." It would be. Damned if he'd let the hotel his grandfather built go under. Pops was the only family he had left.

"Business will pick up. Always does."

"Uh-huh." He wasn't going to drag Pops down.

"Instead of worrying about the hotel, how ‘bout you work on finding yourself a wife and making me some great- grandchildren while I'm still around to see them."

JT threw back his head and laughed. "Give up, Pops. I'm not the settling down type."

Pops finished off his sweet tea. "You'll change your tune when you meet the right woman."

"Not going to happen."

The door opened and a beautiful woman walked into the bar. JT grinned. That never got old. The blonde strode in like she owned the place, wearing a halter dress that skimmed her curves, ending mid-thigh on mile long legs. JT enjoyed the view as she settled down on a stool at the far end of the bar.

"I've got a poker game to get to, JT." Pops nodded back to the blonde. "Stay out of trouble."

"Yessir." How much trouble could the blonde be?

Pops snorted and left.

JT moved back to the bar, settling on the one stool with a clear view of the door and a straight line of sight to the blonde. He caught Bill's eye and lifted one finger.

Bill came over, setting a shot glass in front of him. "Another tequila, JT?"

"Don't start." He took the glass from Bill and leaned forward. "You know the blonde's story?"

"Her name is Laura Danvers." Bill shook his head. "Three days before her wedding the poor girl walked in on her fiancé screwing her best friend. Now she's staying in the Honeymoon Suite all by her lonesome."

Any man who'd cheat on a woman with a body like that was a fool. If Laura was in the market for a rebound fling, he'd be happy to oblige. "What's her drink?"

"Margaritas."

"Send her one from me."

"You got it, JT." Bill picked up a bottle of top shelf tequila and poured a generous amount into a silver shaker, adding the juice of a fresh squeezed lime and crushed ice at lightning speed.

JT grinned as Bill shook the drink and then transferred the contents into a glass with a salted rim. "You are the master of the margarita."

"Got that right," Bill said, walking toward the blonde. He placed the drink in front of her and pointed down the bar.

She snapped her head in JT's direction.

JT raised his glass in a toast.

Her mouth pursed.

Had he miscalculated?

She cocked her head and smiled, raising her glass to mirror his gesture.

JT tipped the glass back and downed the contents in one swallow, savoring the smooth burn trailing down his throat.

Bill leaned forward, elbows on the counter, chatting Laura up as she sipped her drink. With Jimmy Buffet playing in the background, JT couldn't hear a word of their conversation. She was still smiling, a good sign.

As soon as Bill moved away, he was moving in.

She reached into her small straw bag and handed Bill something. And then she slid off her bar stool and sashayed out of the bar.

Damn. So much for his good looks and charm.

"Today's your lucky day, boss," Bill said.

"In case you didn't notice, she left."

"She asked me to give you this." Bill smiled and handed over a thin plastic card.

Her room key.

JT slipped the card into his pocket. Today was looking to be a fine day after all.

JT knocked lightly and then slid the blonde's room key into the lock. A green light flickered and he pushed the handle down. He slid the door open and stepped into the front room of the suite. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, mostly for show since cold air blasted from a nearby vent. She'd turned the thermostat way down.

"Hello? Laura?" Last thing he wanted to do was startle her.

"Back here." Her voice was muffled by the closed French Doors, leading to the bedroom.

In case he couldn't find his way, she'd left him a trail of clothes starting with the killer dress, followed by a scrap of lace bra and a matching thong. She didn't mess around. He hadn't touched her and he was already rock hard.

Opening the doors, he found pretty Laura under the cream cotton sheet of the king size bed, covered up to her shoulders. She sucked in a breath and gave him a tight smile. "Hi James."

Last minute nerves? "My friend's call me JT." He sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on her covered ankle.

She scrambled her legs back and pulled a Glock out from under the covers, aiming the barrel at his gut.